Our Lives Have Just Begun
by CrimsonLucidity
Summary: Another idea of what might happen next... My first fic, so please be gentle. Also, I don't think I've really got the hang of summaries yet. Um, read it, please, or Jackson will come to your house, and not in a good way. Set a few months after Red Eye.
1. Visiting

Urm, I don't own anything. Anything at all.

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Jackson frowned at the crossword in his hands. He couldn't concentrate. There was another mini-riot going on outside his cell, and although the door was thick, the sound still managed to filter through. He sighed, setting the pen and paper down. There was no point in attempting to continue. Instead, he lay back on the hard, grey bunk and closed his eyes, revelling in the memories conjured up by his restless mind. He did this every day, limiting himself, because he knew that it was best to take things like this in moderation. He smiled to himself. It was not often that he thought of the past, as much of it was too painful. But he _liked_ this particular set of memories. 

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Lisa hesitated, her hand on the cold doorknob. She wondered briefly if she should just run, past the armed guards behind her, back down the corridor and out of this cold, forbidding building. But she didn't. She couldn't. She had to see him, to face up to him. Maybe then the dreams that had been plaguing her would finally leave. She had to see him, handcuffed, incapacitated. That would drive away the nightmares. But more importantly, she had to see his eyes. She had to see the evil in those crystalline depths, the evil that it was becoming harder and harder to convince herself had been there. She had to know how wicked he was. Maybe this would stave off the dreams. And the daydreams. The dreams where somethingdifferent happened on the red eye flight, or the ones where he came back. In these dreams, he most certainly was _not_ wicked, _or_ evil. In fact...

"Miss Reisert?"

The voice of one of the men behind her jerked her out of her reverie. She gritted her teeth, her mind made up. The door creaked open.

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"Rippner."

It was a statement. Slowly Jackson cracked open his eyes, taking in the thick-set man who now stood in the doorway to his cell.

"You have a visitor."

All colour drained from Jackson's face.

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Lisa sat in the stiff, grey chair, fidgeting slightly. Why were the chairs here so uncomfortable? Suddenly, the door on the other side of the glass opened, and a man was shoved in, before the door slammed shut. Lisa smiled to herself, glad that the prison officials had kept their word. She wanted this meeting to be private.

She watched Jackson pick himself off the floor slowly. He brushed himself down, still not looking at her. Finally he looked up, and she felt her breath catch in her throat at the expression on his face, in his ice-blue eyes. Jackson Rippner, assassination manager, looked terrified out of his mind.

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So there it is... Please, oh wonderful FF people, tell me what you think, but bear in mind that I am only 13 and this is my first ever fanfiction ever. Ever. 

PJ

...ever.

P.S. I know that the title is random, but I was listening to 'Join Me' by HIM while trying to think of a title, so I just nicked a line from that. I might change it later, if I'm allowed...


	2. Goodbye

**Hello everyone!**

**So, I have to admit that I don't really like this chapter. It's very short (sorry! I swear I'll make the next chapter longer) and, I dunno, I just don't think it's very good. Although, mind you, I never think that I _anything _I write is very good. I may re-write it later.**

**P.S. The reason it may be kind of sucky (is that a word?) is that I wrote half of it at half past midnight last night (considering that my normal bedtime is around 10), and the other half of it at 7.30 this morning (in the _holidays_!) **

**Anyway, enough excuses. Back to the story.

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**

The terror in Jackson's eyes evaporated as he took her in. The glass between them was soundproof, but she could see his lips mouthing '_Lisa?_''

She pointed at the chair opposite her. Jackson swaggered up, and as he walked, Lisa could almost see the old, emotionless mask slide back into place. He slid into the chair and gave her a cocky smile before picking up the telephone-like receiver that hung from a wire. He put it to his ear and smirked again.

"Hello, Jackson." she blurted out before he had the chance to say anything. Jackson gave her another arrogant grin before leaning forward and whispering into the receiver, "Is this conversation private?"

Despite the confidence that his entire body was radiating, there was an urgency in his tone that slightly scared Lisa. This wasn't the Jackson that had terrified her on the plane, and, later, in her house. She looked into his eyes and could still slightly make out the fear that she had seen earlier, behind the mask that he had created.

'_Are you scared of me?_'' she thought, and before she could stop them, she found the words slipping out of her mouth. Jackson scowled.

"Is this conversation _private_?"

Lisa nodded, then watched as Jackson visibly relaxed. She wasn't sure that she wanted to be here any more. Yes, Jackson was incapacitated (although he wasn't wearing handcuffs, like in the movies), but as for evil... she looked into his eyes again, and she couldn't see it. She could see cool indifference, which she was sure was what he wanted her to see, but she could also see fear, and another emotion that she couldn't quite put her finger on...

"Why are you staring at me?" Jackson growled, and Lisa pulled her gaze away from his, looking at her hands as she felt her face flush.

There was a pause.

"No." said Jackson.

"No what?" questioned Lisa, looking back up.

"I'm not scared... of you." Jackson seemed to have taken a sudden interest in the floor. "I didn't see you. When they told me I had a visitor I assumed..." he looked back up, sharply. "Why did you visit me?"

"I... I don't know," Lisa mumbled. "I... I want to go now."

She stood up, but before she took the receiver from her ear she heard him say "Goodbye, Lisa." There was an odd finality to his tone which made Lisa pause for a split second, before she turned away, shutting out his piercing blue eyes.

She walked out of the room.

Jackson sighed and waited to be escorted back to his cell. He found himself wondering how long it would take for Peter to come.

"_Not long now._"

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**How was it? Please let me know!**

**Also, thank you very, very much to everyone who has reviewed. I love you all, and as soon as I've finished putting this chapter up I will answer all of them.**

**A very special thanks to emptyvoices - I promise I'll make the next chapter longer!**

**Laters (why do people say that?),**

**PJ**

**P.S. I know now what people mean when they say reviews are addictive! When I recieved the first few I was thinking '_Please be good... Please be good..._' but everyone was so nice! _showers all reviewers with invisible chocolate bars_**


	3. Knocking

**Oh no, yet another short chapter. I _really_ need to stop doing this. I know... because I'm so irritating with my short chapters, I swear that I'll do my very best to update again before midday tomorrow GMT. If I don't, every single one of you is allowed to throw whatever mouldy vegetables that you might have lying around at me (I'm praying that tomorrow I'll wake up _before_ half past 11)...**

**OK, so, once again, I don't like this chapter. Really, at all. So if anyone wants me to rewrite, just give me the word and I will.**

**Note pt. 3: I'm having a bit of trouble with the American language here (as I am, in fact, very English). After a lot of consideration, I have decided that this is what I think I'm going to do: The main bulk of the story I am going to write in English. This means: aeroplane, colour, grey. The reason that I am going to do this is simple: if I tried to write it in American (as it is, obviously, set in America) I would probably still spell half of the things the English way, and so we would end up with an unhealthy mix of both. HOWEVER, I have decided that, when someone is _speaking_, i will do my best to spell and write everything the American way, as they're American. OK, so not even I have any idea what I just said, and this note is waaaay too long. On with the next sucky chapter.

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**

"_...so do your dad a favour and stop gambling with his life." _

_There was a moment of relative silence in the small aeroplane bathroom, the only sound being the occupants' own heavy breathing. Lisa looked at Jackson, her mind racing. She had tried so hard on two separate occasions, only to be thwarted both times. What tactic hadn't she thought of? _

_A metaphorical lightbulb flicked on in her head. It was a long shot, but..._

"_You don't have to do this, any of this."_

_Jackson said nothing, but she could swear that she saw a flicker or uncertainty in the hypnotic depths of his crystalline eyes._

_She held her breath as she felt his gaze trail down her neck... before stopping._

_Oh, God._

_She shivered involuntarily as she felt his fingers move the cloth of the neckline of her top down slightly. She didn't have to look to know what he was revealing. The scar._

"_Did someone do this to you?"_

_She shut her eyes. "No."_

"_Is that what it is?"_

_Lisa paused. A voice in her head was nagging at her. This had happened before. Don't say no. Don't say no. Tell him._

"_Yes."_

_She looked up, and the expression on his face shocked her. _

"_What happened?" He questioned, all force gone from his voice._

_She told him, screwing her eyes tight shut, warding off the flood of unpleasant memories._

_When she had finished, she opened her eyes again, and looked up at him._

_The expression on his face shocked her._

_Then he kissed her, as someone started knocking heavily on the door of the tiny room, demanding to know what was taking them so long, and everything started to dissolve away..._

Lisa groaned as she awoke. Almost every night, she had a dream to do with Jackson. At first, they had been nightmares, but lately...

She was trying desperately to capture the wispy remnants of her dream when she realised what she was doing and sat bold upright, banishing the dream to the far corners of her mind where such things belonged. It was only then that her groggy brain realised that the knocking sound had not been part of it. Downstairs, someone or something was pounding on her front door. Lisa slid out of bed and put on her dressing gown and slippers, before squinting blearily at the illuminated clock on her bedside table. 2.30 am. What kind of person would be knocking on her door at this hour? She picked up the hockey stick that she had kept beside her bed since the red eye flight. To some, it would have seemed a ridiculous choice of weapon, but it felt comfortable to her.

Lisa began to make her way cautiously down the stairs. As she descended, the pounding grew weaker, then stopped altogether. Still gripping her hockey stick, she walked up to the door, putting her ear to it. Silence. Had she imagined the knocking? Stationing herself so that the door covered the majority of her body (so she could shut it quickly if attacked), she carefully unlocked the door and opened it, keeping it on it's chain.

Lisa gasped. There, slumped unconscious just outside her front door, was none other than Jackson Rippner.

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**In fact, I am now going to try to churn out the next chapter before I go to bed this evening. I'm probably not going to succeed, but...**

**So anyway, once again, tell me what you think and whether I should rewrite. Thank you so much to everyone who has reviewed... your invisible chocolate bars are in the post! (Inside invisible envelopes, of course). I would thank you all individually here, but instead I'll reply to your reviews... now! **

**PJ**


	4. Peter Had Come

**Hi. This note is going to be short, as I've already typed one out, but my computer decided that then would be a good time to go kablooey. **

**P.S. Oh how I love that word. Kablooey.**

**P.P.S. I tried to get it up yesterday, but my computer wouldn't let me, so no mouldy vegetables!

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**

She should have left him there. She could have called the police. She should have got them to take him away, to lock him back up in that horrible grey building. She should have gone back upstairs, to hide beneath the covers and pray that it was another dream; maybe by morning he would have vanished.

She didn't do any of these things.

Lisa stared at Jackson's prone form in shock. What was he doing here? Had someone else brought him and dumped him on her doorstep? She moved forward a bit and flipped over one of his hands with her slipper, revealing his heavily grazed knuckles. No, he had been the one knocking, she was sure of it. What had happened to him? He looked like he had been completely beaten up, and there was a bloodstained bump forming on his head. She dithered for a moment, before half-carrying, half-dragging him inside.

Then she washed her hands thoroughly, as if by touching him she was filthy.

After that, she paced.

What now?

She had an unconscious man on her sofa. Not only that, but said man was supposed to be in jail, for, among other things, hurting _her_.

She went back to him and squatted down to look at his head wound. If it had been anyone else, she would have cleaned it or something, but she really didn't want to touch him any more than was absolutely necessary. She got up and paced some more.

She had work in three hours, and she desperately needed some sleep.

What was she going to _do_?

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Jackson woke up slowly, much slower than usual. He wondered why, then found that it hurt to do so. Ah, so that was it.

He tried to bring his hand up to touch his head, but found that he couldn't. He opened his eyes slowly, squinting as a bright light made his already pounding head give another painful twinge. He seemed to be in someone's living room, one which looked very familiar...

Jackson closed his eyes again, willing the pain to go away. He needed it to, so he could _think_. Where was he, and how had he got here?

He had been in jail, and then...

Peter had come.

But he had escaped before they could kill him, and he ran.

Where to?

He remembered running blindly at first, ignoring the pain, before his brain had caught up with him and reminded him that he needed a _plan_.

The only problem was his complete inability to think...

So he kept on running, to the first familiar place which came to his addled mind.

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Lisa couldn't get to sleep.

She had tied the unconscious Jackson's hands and feet firmly (being careful not to touch him, of course), but she still felt like he was going to sneak up on her any second. She sighed, and threw her covers off. Might as well get up and get something to eat.

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**Urm, so, for the second time I type: **

**I won't be able to update again for a little while as I am going to FRANCE. Don't worry though, I won't be gone long (it isn't a proper long holiday really, just a quick little jaunt across on the ferry. I'll be back by friday).**

**PJ**

**P.S. Did you know that it take 3 times as long to drive to the ferry port from my house than it does to actually go across to France?**

**Anyway, I have to go, as my little brother is yelling at me. This is never a good sign.**

**Au revoir!**


	5. Wake Up

I don't own nothin'. 

By that, of course, I mean that I don't own anything, not that I do own something. 

Well, I do own something, but nothing pertaining to Red Eye.

**Hi! I'm not dead!**

**Went to see Stormbreaker just now... (why it has inspired me to write Red Eye fanfiction I have no idea), but the problem with reading stuff is that every time the movie deviated from the book I felt like yelling "CAUGHT YOU!" at the screen. **

**Not a good move in a cinema.**

**I have a friend who I used to go to nursery with who goes to the same school as the actor who plays Alex Rider, and I have another friend whose brother's friend is _his _friend, and apparently... I'm writing, I'm writing!**

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Lisa made her way slowly downstairs, praying fervently that everything had just been a dream. A very, very vivid dream. Jackson was in prison. She had seen him there herself... 

At the bottom of the stairs, she tried the door to her living room, which was adjoined to her kitchen.

It was locked.

It was OK, though. She might have locked it the evening before. It didn't mean that Jackson was really in there...

She took a few deep breaths, clutched her hockey stick, and opened the door.

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The door began to open, and Jackson closed his eyes again, feigning unconsciousness. It wasn't hard. His head hurt so much that he found himself wishing that he _was_. He couldn't succumb to the urge, however. He needed to focus, work out where he was, and how to get away.

He wondered if whoever was coming through the doorhad an aspirin...

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He _was_ there. Dammit.

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Jackson lay as still as he could, listening to the other person's breathing. They didn't seem to have moved at all since they opened the door. Finally, he heard footsteps slowly coming towards him.

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To put it lightly, he looked like shit. In the morning sunlight streaming through the curtainless windows, Lisa could see every cut and scrape on his face and body. As well as the bump on his head, he had several grazes on his forehead and cheeks, and a deepish cut just underneath his left eye. His bottom lip was puffy and swollen, and there was dried blood around his nose.

Lisa was worried. He still looked unconscious. What if there were worse injuries under his clothes? What if he was dead or dying? How on _earth_ would she ever explain this to the police?

She let her gaze quickly sweep his body. She could see a long, crimson line along his right arm where a knife or some other sharp implement had ripped through his grey prison shirt. There were some tears along the legs of his grey trousers, revealing flesh which was either bruised, bleeding, or both. A dull brownish stain covered one of his shoulders. She hoped that he hadn't been shot or something.

She needed him to wake up. Then he could tend to his own wounds, because she sure as hell wasn't going to do it for him.

The first thing that Lisa did was call into work sick. Then she went into the kitchen and filled a large bowl with cold water...

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**Yeah, OK. Please review. Pleeeeaaase! I'll give you invisible cookies... (and, in case you were wondering, we DO have cookies in England. We also have biscuits. _They are different things_.) :p. **

**Oh yeah, and I'd like to say hi to my friend Kris, if he ever gets 'round to reading this. Hey Kris.**

**Hmm... this chapter... I dunno, I just re-read it, and it feels like mostly filler to me... I swear there'll be more action soon!**

**Yeah, so, criticize all you want. Or praise. Whatever works.**

**Until next time,**

**PJ **

**P.S. I just remembered, I have a question for all you wise fanfiction people. The question is this: What's a 'beta'? I've heard people talk about them (well, read), but I'm still not entirely sure what they _do_. Anyone wanna enlighten me? Stick it in a review...**


	6. Now!

**Ok, so this is the mini-est chapter _ever_. Interesting fact through, I actually wrote this in Macromedia Flash...

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**

The first thing that Lisa did was call into work sick. Then she went into the kitchen and filled a large bowl with cold water...

It would ruin her sofa, but she had been about to get a new one anyway.

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Jackson opened his eyes slightly, wondering where the person who had been in the room mere seconds before had vanished to.

Once again, he heard footsteps.

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Lisa undid the scarf that had been tied to the armrest of the sofa, leaving intact the ones binding his arms and legs together.

She wanted to see him jump.

She raised the large bowl above her head...

And poured the water all over his face.

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**Because who here can honestly say that they wouldn't enjoy pouring freezing cold water over a psychopathic killer?**

**PJ**

**P.S. The difference between cookies and biscuits... I'm not sure what the official thing is, but cookies are like _big _biscuits, often with chocolate chips in... mmm...**

**Excuse me a second.**


	7. Lucidity

**Hello once again.**

**Because the last chapter was so terrifically mini, I've started writing again straight after putting it up. In a font called 'Vampiress'. I like writing in random fonts, it seems to inspire me more, or something...

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**

All thoughts of feigning sleep disappeared from Jackson's mind as he jumped up with a yell.

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Lisa smiled.

The whole water thing had been childish, she knew, but for once _she_ was in control, and she wasn't about to waste the opportunity.

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It took Jackson, in his muddled state, a few seconds to register that what he was experiencing was not, in fact, pain, but cold.

Also, he was _wet_.

He looked up.

He was both injured and bound, and standing beside his now sitting-up form was a fairly angry-looking Lisa Reisert.

This was definitely not good.

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He opened his mouth as if to say something, but she got in there first.

"What are you doing here?"

She felt that, given the circumstances, her voice sounded incredibly calm.

His eyes flicked from her to the door, to around the room and then back again. After a second he replied.

"I don't know. I guess I must have got lost or something."

This was when Lisa lost control.

He just looked and sounded so _ridiculous_, sitting there with water dripping off his hair and soaking his shirt, trying to be so serious when he was obviously still feeling groggy...

She dropped the bowl onto the carpet with a clatter (miraculously it didn't break), and started laughing.

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Jackson watched her in bemusement.

She must have gone mad.

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Lisa slid down the door, still laughing, albeit rather hysterically.

Then she stopped, and started sobbing instead.

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Lisa's crying seemed to rid Jackson's brain of the last of the fogginess which had plagued him since waking.

Memories came back to him, and he started thinking clearly again...

Oh, dear. He wasn't in a good position... and neither was Lisa.

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**I may update again today, but I definitely won't tomorrow; I'm going to Womad for the day. Womad's great, even if I don't particularly like the music...**

**PJ **

**P.S. The name of this chapter is in fact my favourite word. I just had to have it somewhere...**

**Also, yeah, if you want to talk or something, my email adress for MSN is jackman63(at)hotmail(dot)com. Obviously, you replace the (at) with the at sign (which won't show up) and the (dot) with . .**

**Just swear that you won't be scared by my wierd MSN screen names...**


	8. Leave

**Ok, hey. I've done my very best to make this chapter a little longer... tell me what you think!

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**

Lisa finally came to her senses, feeling, for some reason, rather embarrassed with herself. Without so much as a glance in Jackson's direction, she picked herself up and went into the bathroom, where she washed her face, attempting to get rid of the redness of her cheeks and the puffiness of her eyes. She wasn't entirely sure what had happened to her, but put it down to stress coupled with the shock of Jackson's arrival.

Jackson...

Almost without thinking, she picked up some medical stuff on her way out: bandages, plasters, antiseptic, etc.

She re-entered the living room, only to find Jackson still in exactly the same position that he had been in when she had begun her laughing/crying fit. He was sitting straight upright, his bound hands in his lap, staring woodenly at the wall. Lisa dumped the medical gear on the kitchen table and walked over to him, hoping fervently that he didn't have some sort of brain damage or something...

Her fears were dispersed when he turned to look at her, but new ones quickly took their place when she saw the look in his eyes.

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**Longer chapters, longer chapters, I know! I know!**

**Ok then, I'll add some more.

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**

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He was going to die.

Slowly and painfully, he was going to die.

So was Lisa.

An uncomfortable feeling started rising in his stomach at this thought, but he squashed it.

No, he wasn't going to die.

Neither was Lisa.

He was going to get cleaned up, and then he and Lisa were going to go. They were going to run, and they were going to kill everyone who came after him while he thought of a plan to get them out of this.

Lisa, of course, was going to come purely because she had seen him, and if he left her behind she could tell people where he had gone, or something.

Yes.

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Lisa watched in fascination as, once again, Jackson masked the fear in his eyes. It was clever how he did that, really.

"We've got to leave," he said, voice calm.

For a split second, Lisa kept staring at him before walking back to the kitchen and gathering up the medical equipment, returning to him and dumping it in his lap.

"Get cleaned up."

Jackson quirked an eyebrow at her.

"Concerned about my wellbeing, Lis'?"

Lisa scowled.

"You didn't let me finish... Get cleaned up, and then _get out_."

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Jackson grinned as cheekily as possible (given the circumstances), and raised his eyebrows again.

"No can do, Lis'."

He could see her getting angrier, her fingernails digging into her palm as her knuckles slowly turned white. He smiled to himself mentally, enjoying her discomfort. Anyone else, he liked to think, placed in the same situation as him, would be extremely nervous. They might even be scared of Lisa, considering the events of that red eye flight. But he was above all that. He smirked again, this time letting it reach his lips.

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"And why is that?"

She needed to calm down, to focus. Breath in, breath out. Count to ten.

He smirked at her.

"Well, as you can see, Lis', I'm rather tied up right now..."

He chuckled at his own pun.

Count to twenty. Thirty...

"And also, when I do leave, _you're coming with me_."

* * *

**Oh man... _hyperventilates_ this thing just crashed... I swear, I didn't breathe at all while it was seeing if it could recover it. Phew.

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**

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Lisa stared at him.

What did he mean by that? What could he possibly...

"My Dad..."

He laughed.

"Nope."

"Who, then? _Who?_"

"No one."

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Lisa stared at him, confusion evident in her green eyes.

He had forgotten how much _fun_ she was.

The clock on the wall chimed the hour, four rings resonating around the room, reminding Jackson that as enjoyable as it was to mess around with Lisa's head, they really needed to get a move on.

He put his smirk back on.

"I can't _force_ you to come with me, but, if you want to die, slowly and painfully, then by all means stay here."

Then he held his breath and prayed that she would take him seriously.

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**Okie dokie, that's about it for this installment...**

**Womad was wicked. Mmm, hippies...**

**Thank you ever so much (how posh) to everyone and everything who reviewed... review again? Please?**

**I'll give you... invisible CDs! Name your invisible CD of choice, or else I'll be fishing stuff out of the invisible bargain bin in an invisible Oxfam. **

**'Till next time,**

**PJ**


	9. I Never Lie

**Hi! I'm not dead, honest! I've just been seriously out of ideas... but then I realised that I was scared of sporks (coughHarpie138cough), so I mashed this together. It ain't very good, and it's a little short... and I promise that the next chapter will have more action in. Cross my heart. And it'll be longer. Hopefully.**

**And the author's note won't have the word 'and' repeated in it as often.**

**000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000**

Lisa stared for a few seconds.

Then she shook her head.

"You're lying".

"No, I'm not. I never lie. Ever." He replied, voice low.

Lisa stood still for another second or two, before turning and exiting the living room. She picked up the medical stuff off the table, walked back and dumped it in Jackson's lap.

He opened his mouth to say something.

"No!" She cut him off, voice a little higher and louder than she would have liked. She composed herself. "No. Get cleaned up. No remarks, no questions."

She untied his hands but not his feet, body tense, preparing herself for some sort of attack.

It didn't come – he sat there, rubbing his wrists and looking at the objects on his lap, not meeting her eyes.

She turned and went into the kitchen.

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"Lisa..." she had to listen to him. He'd _make _her listen.

She ignored him.

He made as if to get up, before realising that his feet were still tied together.

He shut his eyes, counted to ten.

Then he looked through the stuff that Lisa had given him.

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"Can I have some water?"

Lisa whirled around, almost knocking her coffeemaker off the counter.

"W-Why?"

He held up a small packet, shook it.

"Aspirin. Or do I have to swallow them dry?"

Lisa got a cup – a _plastic_ cup – and filled it with water. She was about to go over and hand it to him, but an idea formulated in her brain.

"Say please."

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"_What?_"

"You heard me."

He rolled his eyes. They didn't have time for this.

"Just give me the water, Leese..."

"No. Say please."

He bit his lower lip, then swore as pain lanced through his jaw from his bruised mouth.

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She was enjoying this way too much.

"Say it..."

"Fine." He spat. "_Please."_

"Say it like you mean it..."

"For crying out loud..."

She smirked at him.

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Cold brown eyes surveyed the blue front door, as their owner pulled a slim black object from a concealed pocket.

A gloved hand turned a shiny new key. The door swung slowly open on well-oiled hinges.

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"Come on, just..."

Then Jackson froze, looking at an area just over Lisa's shoulder.

Lisa turned around slowly...

**000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000**

**Whoo. In other news, I just got back about a week ago from the USA. You guys have _so much sugar_ in your food! Seriously. Not that that's a bad thing. And I miss Hot Topic.**

**Also, I went to the reading festival on Sunday. Apparently I'm in an army. Gerard Way said so, so it must be true...**


	10. Punishment

**Oh, oops. I deleted the chapter. I'm sorry. Here it is again!**

**Harpie: Ah ha, but I have now overcome my fear of sporks, and laugh at them instead. I laugh in the face of your sporks!**

**And to everyone else – I apologise for the shortness etc. of this chapter. Excuse: I just started a new school, and it's been pretty hectic. Anyways.

* * *

**

Everything happened very fast.

Lisa barely had time to register the masked figure stood in the doorway before she felt something barrel into her side and was knocked back several steps before her head hit the floor.

She heard some quite little sounds and watched in fascination as a fruit bowl on the kitchen island that she now seemed to be behind shattered.

Then she realised that someone was shooting at her, that whatever had knocked her over was still lying on top of her, and that she couldn't breathe because of it.

IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII

Jackson swore under his breath. This was not good. This was _definitely_ not good.

He rolled off Lisa, then looked around at the kitchen for a few seconds before turning his attention back to her. She was still lying on the floor, so he grabbed one of her arms and hauled her into a sitting position, wincing slightly as he did so.

He then sneaked a look over the island, ducking down quickly as a bullet narrowly missed his head.

Lisa was staring at him.

"Who..." she began, but he cut in.

"They're wearing a mask. You see, Lis', you see what happens when you mess with my organization?"

"Your organization? Why are _they_..."

He cut her off again by placing a hand roughly over her mouth, then moving it away again quickly before she could take the chance to bite it.

"Questions later, Lisa", he hissed, before suddenly rearing back and headbutting her.

She fell unconscious immediately, even as Jackson cursed loudly at the intensified pain in his forehead where he had hit his bruise.

**----------------------------------------**

Lisa awoke to a nasty, aching pain in her head, which got worse with every jolt...

Jolt from _what_?

She cracked open her eyes, and saw the back of another car, through a windscreen. She turned her head to the left, and her gaze rested on Jackson, who was clutching a steering wheel and glaring at the traffic jam in front of them. He looked better, with plasters on his now-clean face and forehead, and butterfly stitches on the cut underneath his eye. He was wearing a white shirt that she recognised as one of her father's, which he had undoubtedly left in the guest room the last time he had visited her.

Without diverting his eyes from the road, Jackson held out some water and aspirin for her, which she took appreciatively, although she didn't thank him.

IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII

Jackson watched her from the corner of his eye as she took the aspirin and drank the water. She finished the water, screwed the cap back on, and put the empty bottle into the glove compartment.

There was a pause.

Jackson gave up on the stationary traffic, and turned the engine off.

Lisa took a breath, and began.

"Wha..."

"People from my company are trying to kill me... and you, too." Jackson interrupted, still staring straight ahead at the unmoving car in front. "I failed – the punishment for that is death."

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**Wow, I remembered that Americans drive on the left. Go me.**

**Now, go and review this, then read & review my other fics: Pain, Rain and Under The Rose. :). Now.**


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